Rivkin was barely standing. A large shard of glass protruded from his side. He was bruised and bleeding all over his body. He was breathing heavily. Wincing, he pulled the glass out and began to stumble forward, towards Tony.
"No," Tony warned. "Don't do this," He began repeating these words, the only ones he could remember.
But in those last moments, he saw something in those eyes that stared at him. They weren't eyes fearing an obviously imminent death. They weren't scared. No, these eyes were defiant. They were dark. They were filled with hatred and vengeance and evil.
His fingers finally grasped his SIG. He raised his hand, and pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times. The life in Rivkin tumbled with him to the ground. A mere few seconds later, the door swung open. He turned his gun towards the door, ready to protect what little life he still had in him.
But before him stood Ziva. Her own gun was aimed at him, her eyes raging with fury as she saw the body lying on the floor beside him.
She wouldn't understand, not for a long time. His heart ached inside of him. He had done the right thing. He had done what was necessary. And he may have just ruined any chance he ever had with her. That much he knew.